Work Text:
Tanjiro has just finished closing up the bakery for the night when his phone buzzes with a call from Genya. “Hey,” he answers, smiling already. “What’s up?”
“Tanjiro,” Genya gasps, and Tanjiro’s smile immediately drops. He sounds like he’s fighting back tears - and losing the battle.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, forcing his voice to remain calm even as his concern spikes. He knows sounding worried will only upset Genya more for having upset him, and by the shaky breaths he can hear through his phone’s tinny speaker, Genya is plenty worked up already.
“I-I didn’t - I didn’t mean to but - b-but when he - I just - and then he—”
“Whoa, whoa, hey,” he soothes, “slow down. You - you’re safe, right?”
“Mhm,” Genya hums miserably.
“Okay,” Tanjiro says, immediately recalculating his plans for the night. Microwaving leftovers and relaxing to music in his apartment can easily wait; as worried as he is, he’s a million times happier that Genya reached out to him. That hasn’t always been the case, and that Genya has reached this point of trusting him makes his heart feel a little warm, even in a moment like this one. “Hang in there, okay? I’ll be there soon. You’re at home?”
“Mhm.”
“Okay. Just breathe, all right? It’s gonna be okay,” he insists as he starts speedwalking down the sidewalk. “Do you need me to stay on the phone with you ‘til I get there?”
“...No,” Genya says after a moment.
“No, you really don’t need me to, or no, you feel bad asking me to?” He feels a little bad phrasing it so bluntly, but he needs to know. Genya may have made a ton of progress since they started dating, but he’s still very much human - just as Tanjiro is. They both have issues with viewing themselves as burdens, even if in very different ways and for very different reasons, so sometimes pushing a little harder is necessary.
“No,” Genya says, sounding a little firmer, even if still on the verge of tears. “I’m - I’ll be here.”
Tanjiro is still a little dubious, but he’ll accept that answer for now - it’s not that far to Genya’s place, anyway. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll be there in half an hour tops. Okay?”
“Mhm.”
He hangs up the phone and starts walking with renewed purpose, determined to turn that half hour into twenty-five minutes.
In retrospect, dropping a bombshell like that on Sanemi when Sanemi was trying to head over to Iguro’s hadn’t been the smartest move on Genya’s part. Genya didn’t think Tanjiro would say he was being too self-deprecating for acknowledging that.
But he just - he hadn’t really been thinking. He hadn’t meant to bring it up; it had just sort of slipped out as a passing comment that he wanted to someday own a gardening shop, and Sanemi obviously heard it and…
Well, Genya knows being an entrepreneur of a small business won’t be easy, but he wants to spend his life working with plants, and their town can certainly use a gardening shop. He knows that kind of job won’t guarantee him any sort of high income, but he’s okay with that - he doesn’t need to be ridiculously well-off. He just needs to be able to take care of himself, and with the Tokito twins’ help with the math, he’s pretty sure he could do it. He still has to finish college first, but the more he thinks about it, the more the idea becomes concrete in his mind. And he tried to explain all that as clearly as he could.
But Sanemi doesn’t see things the same way as him. Anything other than a stable job at an already-existing company is an unreasonable risk, nigh-guaranteed to have him living on the streets after a single bad quarter. And it’s not like Genya has mentioned any of this before - he just knew Genya likes growing plants as a hobby. So of course he’s shocked. Of course he’s angry. That’s to be expected, and it was a perfectly reasonable reaction, and—!
Sanemi gesticulates a lot when he’s mad. Genya knows that, and knows that it doesn’t mean Sanemi wants to hurt him. But…
But.
But he’d gotten right in Genya’s face, raising one of his fists to make a point, and Genya hadn’t been able to help the ingrained muscle memory. He flinched, so violently that he’d banged his head against the kitchen cabinet behind him.
At the sound, Sanemi had frozen, eyes wide and all anger erased from his expression. For the longest thirty seconds of Genya’s life, they’d just stared at each other, neither saying a word. And then he’d turned on his heel, still silent, and stormed out of their apartment, leaving Genya to crumple to the floor on trembling legs that refused to support his weight.
That’s where he is now, because even after calling Tanjiro, he can’t quite bring himself to get up. He can’t stop the shivers that wrack his whole body, as if he’s experiencing his own personal earthquake. It feels like some tectonic plates have collided in his chest, crushing and grinding and making it impossible to breathe. He knows he should get up, splash some water on his face - which undoubtedly is red and tear-stained and pathetic - but he can’t. He just can’t make himself move. He doesn’t think he could stand even if he wanted to, but also, everything in him is screaming to curl up into a ball and disappear.
Sanemi never wants to be like Kyogo. Genya knows that. He knows it because that same exact fear shaped much of his high school and early college years. That fear still hangs about his shoulders like a veil, but these days the fabric is sheer and light, far more easily forgotten.
Sanemi is nothing like Kyogo, really, but Genya is an idiot who can’t even separate past from present or his caring older brother from his dead asshole father.
What the hell sort of little brother is he? What sort of person is he? How could he make that mistake, even subconsciously? What is wrong with him? How could he do something like that to the man who’s done nothing but protect their family, even if sometimes they butt heads, even if sometimes he makes Genya feel so impossibly small and incapable—
There’s a knock on the door. “Genya?” an oh-so-familiar voice calls. “I’m here - can I come in?”
Tanjiro. Tanjiro, his godsend, the person he could never in a million years hope to deserve but has somehow found himself with regardless. He wants to call out for Tanjiro to come in, wants to send Tanjiro far, far away, but can get the words out to do neither. The best he can do is fish his phone out of his pocket and text Tanjiro, The door is unlocked.
There’s a beat of silence, and then he hears the chime of Tanjiro’s phone, followed by a rustle, and then the doorknob rattles and the door to his and Sanemi’s apartment swings open. He can’t see much from his spot on the kitchen floor, but he can tell Tanjiro has a plastic bag in hand and is disheveled, as though he came here in a hurry.
Well, of course he did! After Genya called him in that state - and at this point, Genya can’t even remember everything he’d said - he must have been worried half to death.
“Genya?” Tanjiro calls from the entryway, sounding a little confused as he no doubt scans the apartment to look for Genya.
Over here, Genya means to say, but all that comes out is a raspy little sob.
Still, it’s enough - Tanjiro’s head whips in his direction. He sets his bag down on the kitchen table and hurries over to Genya, crouching before him while leaving about a foot or so between them.
He’s so goddamn considerate, and that just squeezes another sob out of Genya’s chest. Tanjiro is the sort of person who will drop everything to come help someone he cares about, while Genya is the sort of person who will betray his loved ones without even meaning to.
“Oh, starlight,” Tanjiro murmurs, immediately moving to fuss over him, using his sleeves to scrub gently at the tears spilling down Genya’s cheeks. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
But he’s not - and Sanemi’s not, because of him. Because he had to go and get ambitious and be stupid about it. Because he was stupid enough to think that he can do whatever he wants with his life in a world that doesn’t give a damn about what he wants. And most of all because he can’t even control his own reflexes, and that wound up hurting Sanemi badly.
“I’ve got you,” Tanjiro continues. He shuffles a little closer and starts pressing light kisses all over Genya’s face, cradling Genya’s head in his hands like he’s something to be cherished and protected.
He lets out a keen, and to his ears it sounds like he’s some kind of wounded animal. He wants the comfort, craves it desperately, even as he knows he brought this all on himself and ought to suffer alone.
But he is selfish, and so when Tanjiro opens his arms, he folds, falling into them because he knows Tanjiro will always, always catch him.
Tanjiro has no idea what happened, and Genya’s not exactly being forthcoming with details, but he’s nothing if not good at improvising his way through a situation. He holds his sobbing boyfriend as tightly as he can, and takes it as a good sign when Genya clings back to him just as tightly.
He can guess this has something to do with Genya’s brother. Little else can get him anywhere near this upset, and this is more worked up than Genya has been in…a long while. Probably not since that disaster of an awards ceremony back in high school, when Genya won a prefecture-wide archery competition and Sanemi tore up his certificate onstage.
That had been a hellish few days. But that was years ago by now, and Sanemi has long since apologized. He and Genya still have a rocky relationship, but while they bicker and occasionally have more serious fights, Sanemi is much better about not crossing lines.
So that line of thought does nothing to clear up Tanjiro’s confusion. But he certainly doesn’t need to understand the reason in order to comfort Genya. He can always find out the context later.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position on the tile floor and pulling Genya into his lap as best he can. He twines his fingers into the long, fluffy strands of Genya’s mohawk, alternating between finger-combing Genya’s hair and pressing kisses to the top of Genya’s head.
He can feel every sob Genya lets out as if it tears through his own chest as well. He wants nothing more than to take all the pain Genya is in and lock it away, cast it off into the sea where it can never hurt him again, but he knows that’s impossible. So he just hugs Genya as fiercely as he can and hopes it’s enough.
Genya can’t cry forever, even if he wants to - eventually, his body tires itself out.
He doesn’t feel any better for it, once his crying spell is more or less spent. He’s lightheaded from gasping for air, and his throat aches, and his whole face hurts from being scrunched up. Most of all, though, he’s utterly bone-weary.
Tanjiro hasn’t asked a single question about what happened and hasn’t uttered anything but comforting words. It’s such a quietly pure expression of love, but it almost makes Genya feel nauseous, because he doesn’t think he deserves it.
When he’s been quiet for a while, his breaths mostly evened out save for the occasional hitching gasp, Tanjiro asks quietly, “Want to move to the couch, get a little more comfortable?”
That would probably be a lot nicer than sitting here on the hard floor, but it would require getting up and moving, which he’s definitely not ready to do.
Whether or not Tanjiro understands the finer points of this, he’s not sure - but his readiness for movement is quickly proven moot when Tanjiro scoops him up off the floor into a bridal carry as though he weighs nothing. He lets out a squeak of surprise that would be embarrassing if it were anyone other than Tanjiro, and clings to Tanjiro’s neck a little more tightly than necessary as Tanjiro brings him over to the couch.
Nestled between a couch cushion and Tanjiro’s steady presence, he feels a little smaller, a little more sheltered…not quite better, to be sure, but a little less like he’s going to shatter into a million tiny pieces.
But now, of course, Tanjiro expects to know what in the world happened. He hasn’t asked, not yet, but Genya knows he’s wondering. It would be crazy if he wasn’t.
It’s better to bring it up first, he thinks. He’s not sure why, but it feels like it would be easier to say it on his own rather than to give it as an answer to the question.
“I - I accidentally brought up the gardening thing,” he whispers, trembling a little. Tanjiro knows about his plans - even tried to help sketch out what the shop’s layout might look like, until his lack of artistic skills relegated him strictly to brainstorming ideas. And he’s been wholeheartedly supportive, so Genya shouldn’t be so anxious mentioning it.
But that’s why he knows hearing about Sanemi’s reaction will only upset him. Tanjiro and Sanemi have never had the best relationship, and this will undoubtedly make things worse.
Tanjiro hugs him tighter and he leans into it, trying to absorb even a fraction of his partner’s steadiness. “He - he wasn’t happy. Which I knew - he was never going to be. He d-doesn’t think I can support myself with it, but I did all the math so I know I can, b-but when I tried to explain he just got angrier, and then I - I—”
He gasps, feeling a fresh wave of tears trying to escape, and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. Goddamn it, how hard is it to get a few sentences out?
“Shhh,” Tanjiro hushes him, pressing yet another kiss to his forehead. “There’s no rush.”
But just because Tanjiro will always wait patiently doesn’t mean he should have to.
“He - he waved his hand, or whatever, I don’t even know. And I - I wasn’t thinking, and I just flinched like a goddamn moron, and so of course he got upset and left, and it’s all my fault and I’m just a stupid idiot who can’t even—”
“No, you’re not,” Tanjiro interjects, voice somehow managing to be firm without expressing a hint of anger. “You’re not stupid and none of that is your fault. You couldn’t control how he was going to react - and, for that matter, he shouldn’t have reacted the way he did.”
“But—”
“You’ve flinched around me once or twice, haven’t you?” Tanjiro questions.
…He has, a few times, when Tanjiro made a fast movement just at the edge of his field of view, or when he’s been extra tired and even the slightest raised voice sets him on edge.
He nods.
“But I’m not upset about it, because I know it’s just instinct. Right?”
Instinct that should be well overridden by now, considering Kyogo has been dead for over a decade. But yes, objectively speaking, it’s muscle memory at the core of this. He nods again.
“And I’m sure Sanemi knows that too.”
But it’s different for Tanjiro than it is for Sanemi. With Tanjiro, it’s simply the knowledge that his partner suffered domestic abuse as a child and still bears the scars from it; all he needs to think about is being a little more aware of how he moves and speaks at times. With Sanemi, it’s the knowledge that he shares the same genes as the monster who loomed over their childhood, in particular the same aptitude for anger and the muscle to back it up.
Tanjiro has no reason to fear he’ll become anything like Kyogo. But that fear is worn into both Sanemi’s and Genya’s bones like water that has eroded stone.
Tanjiro lets out a breath, no doubt smelling the guilt that must be radiating off Genya. “Look at it this way - did you mean to make Sanemi feel bad?”
“No - of course not!” He would never—
“And we agree that it’s something you couldn’t control.”
“W-well, yes, but—”
“Then how can it be your fault?”
He opens his mouth, thinks about it, then closes it. The logic feels wrong; he wants to find the holes in it and tear them as wide as he can…but he can’t find any. He can’t find any gaps in Tanjiro’s thinking, and maybe he’s just too wrung out to be able to catch a glaring error, but he can’t find any basis to argue.
It should be reassuring; it should be proof that Tanjiro is right, but it doesn’t calm him in the slightest. He can feel another sob rising in his chest and tries to breathe through it - he’s done enough crying today, for god’s sake - but the pressure in his lungs keeps building.
“Shh-shh-shhh,” Tanjiro soothes, pressing a finger to Genya’s lips. “Stop overthinking. You trust me, right?”
Of course he does. If he can be sure of nothing else, he can be sure of that.
“Then trust me when I say Sanemi doesn’t blame you and you didn’t do anything wrong.”
And again, that goddamn logic has him in a corner. As much as he wants to argue, he does trust Tanjiro’s judgment implicitly. Even if it feels wrong, he can’t deny what he just confirmed.
“…Okay,” he whispers, lips brushing against Tanjiro’s finger.
Tanjiro raises an eyebrow as if surprised by the relatively quick concession, but he doesn’t argue. His dubiousness is quickly replaced by a gentle, fond smile, and he leans his forehead against Genya’s. “Okay?”
…Is it okay? He’s better than he was before, in any case. He wouldn’t say he’s okay, but he’s not crying his eyes out or halfway to a panic attack on the kitchen floor, so he’s as okay as he’s going to be at the moment. After a moment, he nods and whispers again, “Okay.”
They sit on the couch for a while, the only sound Genya’s occasional sniffles. Eventually, though, Tanjiro glances at the table and is reminded of the bag he brought - more specifically, of what’s within it.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asks, lifting his chin from the top of Genya’s head just enough so he can speak. The couch is deep enough that they can snuggle comfortably on it, Genya fully nestled in his arms despite their size difference. One of his arms is around Genya’s waist, the fingers of that hand entwined with Genya’s own, while his other is around Genya’s shoulders, his index finger tracing shapes beneath Genya’s collarbone.
Genya hums a negative response.
“Hungry?”
He shrugs one shoulder.
“Hungry for waffles?”
Genya shifts, twisting enough to meet Tanjiro’s eyes. “Please tell me you’re not about to pull out a waffle iron and batter.”
Tanjiro grins. “Who, me? Why would I ever do anything like that—” Genya raises an eyebrow— “when I could buy them ready-made instead?”
Genya looks as though he can’t decide whether to be upset or grateful.
“They’re not as good as mine, I bet,” he continues, “but they’re faster. I picked them up on my way here.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Genya groans, but he nuzzles his cheek against Tanjiro’s sternum, so clearly he’s not too upset.
“I’ve got that old Ghibli movie you said you’ve been wanting to watch, too,” he adds. He’s had the DVD sitting in his apartment for far too long - he kept forgetting to take it with him when he and Genya went on dates. Now, he supposes, is as good an opportunity as ever to watch it.
“...You’re too good to me,” Genya mumbles, hiding his face a little more against Tanjiro.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” he counters. He kisses the top of Genya’s head again to soften the point but doesn’t take it back. “Anyway. You want to eat now, or wait a bit?”
Genya’s quiet for a few moments, considering. “A few more minutes?”
“‘Course.” He hugs Genya a little tighter, feeling the tension in his boyfriend’s muscles. As they continue to sit embraced, though, the stiffness slowly drains out of him, until he’s more-or-less completely relaxed in Tanjiro’s arms.
He doesn’t ask; he simply waits for Genya to show he’s ready. Which he eventually does, sitting up and pulling out of Tanjiro’s arms in favor of hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin atop them. It’s a curious sight, seeing him so small when he’s a solid half-foot taller than Tanjiro with broad-shoulderedness to boot. Though he won’t meet Tanjiro’s eyes, he nods once in the direction of the bag of takeout Tanjiro brought.
“Coming with me or waiting here?” Tanjiro asks. He won’t take his hand out of Genya’s unless given the sign to do so.
“I…” Genya hesitates, then draws back into himself a little more.
That’s as much of a no as he’s going to vocalize right now. Tanjiro nods, humming in acceptance, and gives his hand a quick squeeze. “I won’t be going anywhere you can’t see me. Okay?”
After a moment, Genya nods. He disentwines their fingers, then shrinks back against the couch to watch silently as Tanjiro walks over to the kitchen table. There’s a heavy, wary look in his eyes - it’s haunted, almost. He looks far too old and tired to be as young as he is.
As quickly as he can without making it overly obvious that he’s hurrying, Tanjiro pulls out the container of waffles - thanking his lucky stars, or whatever deity pertains to waffles, that it’s still warm - and syrup packets, plastic silverware, and plates. Then he brings it all back to the couch, setting it out on the cushion next to Genya. It doesn’t take long to apportion them each a waffle - trickier is not spilling syrup all over himself and the couch while trying to tear open a syrup packet. Genya almost smiles at his effort.
Once they each have their waffles, he slides back over to sit beside Genya again; immediately, Genya leans their shoulders together. Silence falls as they start eating - Tanjiro decides after two bites that his own waffles are absolutely better, but, well, sometimes accessibility is more important than taste. At first, Genya only picks at his waffle, but his nibbles gradually turn into larger bites.
They each finish two waffles apiece, and once they’ve wiped the stickiness off their fingers, Tanjiro sets up the movie with mumbled instructions from Genya, and they resettle themselves on the couch to watch.
Sometimes it feels like sorcery, how good Tanjiro is at calming Genya down even when he feels like his whole world is coming apart. In barely the span of an hour, he’s gone from crying his eyes out to - well, not quite forgiving himself, but he’s far calmer than he was before. And far closer to whatever tenuous sense of okay he has.
It’s warm, being tucked against Tanjiro’s side and with a blanket wrapped snug around him. The guilt can’t reach him here, can’t penetrate this bubble of security that Tanjiro has created for them.
It’s not long before he can’t follow the movie anymore. His stomach is full and his eyelids are heavy, weighed down by all the crying he did earlier and the general emotional rollercoaster of an evening. Any and all adrenaline that had flooded his system before is long since washed away, and now he’s moments away from drifting off.
He curls closer to Tanjiro and lets his eyes close, the slow rise and fall of Tanjiro’s chest lulling him even more. The last thing he’s aware of before drifting off completely is a soft voice in his ear whispering, “Sleep well, starlight.”
Whether by merit of being an early riser or the fact that Genya - who’s normally a light sleeper - is truly exhausted, Tanjiro is the one to wake up when the apartment door opens the next morning. He has no clue what time it is, but given the light slanting through the windows, it’s pretty early. A beam of light is cast perfectly over Genya, making his hair practically glow, and Tanjiro is pleased to see that his sleep looks peaceful.
Over the course of the night, they’ve shifted from their earlier upright position to be lying down across the couch, pressed as close together as possible so Tanjiro doesn’t roll off and take Genya with him. It’s a little uncomfortable, but when he cranes his neck, he can see that it’s Sanemi who’s entered the apartment.
As much as Tanjiro takes issue with the way he’s raised Genya, it’s plain to see he regrets their altercation last night: there are heavy shadows beneath the older man’s eyes, like he didn’t sleep at all, and he moves quietly, as if he knows or guesses that Genya is asleep and doesn’t want to disturb his peace. The most glaring evidence of all, though, is the heavy scent of regret that hangs around him like a miasma.
He glances over at the couch, and his eyes - so alike and yet so different from Genya’s - lock onto Tanjiro’s. He frowns, no doubt taking in his brother’s little-spoon position and remembering the variety of times he and Tanjiro have butted heads. Rather than picking a fight, though, he lets out a long sigh that seems to deflate his shoulders.
How is he? he mouths, nodding to Genya.
Well, that’s a little surprising, but Tanjiro supposes it’s better than if he walked away and pretended not to care. Better than last night, he mouths back.
Sanemi’s lips tighten and the acrid smell of guilt sharpens in the air.
Talk to him, Tanjiro mouths. When he wakes up. And listen.
Sanemi looks uneasy, but now accompanying the guilt is a whiff of duty, and Tanjiro knows he’ll listen. The brief spell of understanding between them ends soon enough, though, and he shrugs once before ambling toward his bedroom.
Tanjiro will take it.
Genya wakes up cocooned between the blanket, the couch, and Tanjiro’s body, and he can’t say he ever wants to leave this moment. He can tell Tanjiro is awake because of the way he’s gone back to tracing shapes over Genya’s heart the way he did the night before.
He’s not sure how long that’s been the case, though, because Tanjiro’s voice is still heavy with sleep when he murmurs, “Morning, starlight.”
He hums before turning over, careful not to accidentally push Tanjiro off the couch. Leaning his forehead against Tanjiro’s, he observes, “Sunshine - you stayed the night.” He’s not surprised, exactly - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. But every time it happens, he feels like it bears note.
“Of course,” Tanjiro replies - this, too, is said every time. He treats it as though it’s nothing, as if his presence isn’t the greatest gift the universe has ever - and likely will ever - grant Genya.
“Thank you,” he whispers - in part for Tanjiro’s being here now, but more so for everything he did last night.
Tanjiro smiles, his deep burgundy eyes shimmering like endless pools in the morning light. “Of course.”
It doesn’t feel like such an of course to Genya - not when he’s grown so used to people turning their backs on him and the difficulties he inherently bears. But Tanjiro loves as naturally as breathing, so maybe for him it really is an of course. And maybe, if it really is so easy for Tanjiro to love him…
Maybe that means it’s not such an improbable thing for him to be lovable.
“Ready to get up and face the day?” Tanjiro asks.
“...Yeah,” he decides after a moment. It’s going to be hard as hell - he’ll have to face Sanemi sooner rather than later, and that’s going to be a whole host of difficult conversations he wishes he could avoid - but he thinks he can finally do it. “I’m ready now.”